For most of my life, I’ve had a portion of Teddy Roosevelt’s speech at the Sorbonne memorized. “It is not the critic who counts… The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.” It’s moving. It moves me in the sense that I actually take action when I think of it, hear it in my head or in my heart. The issue is at the moment, the critics have such a large megaphone that it becomes hard to hear our heads and our hearts. The echo of other people’s point of view tends to linger, burn and even cut the ones who are actually in the arena. The credit may belong to the man in the arena but that credit is hard earned because people want you to lose and never let you forget it.
The only thing to do is go deaf. Deaf to the jeers, the criticisms and the negativity. The volume of the critic does not matter if you pay no attention. Besides the only reason the words of the critic ever penetrated is because you believed them at least partially. Their message about you being a failure or a loser resonated with you on some level deep within. So the inner critic is actually the one that has the power to take you down.
The way to silence the inner critic is to run. Run straight into the arena. Sleep there, eat there, get your ass kicked there but at least in the arena, the inner critic has to stay in the stands. He can’t get his hands on you as long as you stay fixed in the center of the ring. Perhaps in the end you’ll find out that the critics were right and you didn’t have the stuff. But at least you’ll know for sure, while they’re left wondering about themselves. Outwardly chastising but inwardly envying the chance that you took to gain the credit of the arena.
Have a great weekend!
Pete
Each week in fourth grade, we had a folder that contained all of our work. On Friday, if you had everything done, the word ‘Complete’ was written on your folder and you got to do some craft or game. If you didn’t have everything done, you received a note of ‘Incomplete’ and you needed to finish your work before getting any free time. In the entire school year, I think that I was ‘Complete’ only twice. It took me most of the year to finish my macrame owl due to my limited free time. I’m quite certain that I only passed fourth grade by the skin of my teeth. Perhaps I should have (or continue) to feel badly about my incomplete track record or tendency. The fact of the matter is that I don’t.
The world is filled with things that cut. Like walking through a patch of thorn bushes with exposed skin, injury is an almost certainty. In the short term, bandaging the cuts is the right strategy. In time, the wounds will heal. If too many cuts pile up, the bandages become wrappings. You become a mummy. Movements constrained by the bandages on wounds that never healed. Avoiding cuts completely is an impossibility but choosing a new path and learning how to wield a machete are both options. Band aids are not a long term solution, they are a short term fix. This concept is obvious when thinking about real wounds but with metaphorical wounds, this is a common strategy.
Last night I saw Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol 2 with my son. (No spoilers, don’t worry!) One of the central characters in the Guardians series is Groot. He is a slightly simple-minded creature who can only say one thing “I am Groot”. Luckily his partner, Rocket, is extremely adept at understanding and deciphering his message. While Groot is often the star of the show, Rocket makes him accessible to everyone.
Personally I am not interested in making my beliefs, your beliefs. I put my words out there in the hopes that they resonate with some people, not everyone. For example, I’m not sure that they exist but I think it would be really cool if there were people who still believed in the Greek gods like Zeus. It’s obvious to me that those gods don’t work for me but for someone else, they may work great (provided they’re not hurting others). One of the keys to this life is figuring out what works for you, not what the “best practices” or “top ten tips” are. No one else can live your life and therefore no one else should.
Living in the world of higher order organisms, we are not as dependent on stretching ourselves in order to survive. In fact over the past century we’ve been rewarded for being small amoebas. Stretching or standing out was discouraged. Get good grades, get into a good college, do your job and follow the rules. Being a small amoeba is not as smart as it used to be. The systems that rewarded the small amoeba are breaking down all over the place and we’re being asked to stretch again.
Living with a teenage boy can be disgusting. Having grown up in a house with three brothers, any one of us had the ability to make everyone else leave the house based on a bodily function. We were delighted by our own disgusting-ness. Since the offensive odor belonged to us, we were almost immune to it. Eventually we all turned into civilized human beings but I’m sure there was some real doubt from my mother for a while. I’m sure that most mothers occasionally envision their sons growing up to be lifelong bachelors. Not by choice but by necessity. Her grownup boy would be alone in a one bedroom apartment playing video games, farting and giggling. He would be completely nose-blind to his effect on others. Luckily most boys figure out their effect on others and keep their crap to themselves.
The future is out there and you’re going to arrive at it whether you’re ready or not. The problem is that the future is unclear like on a really foggy morning. The haze itself is nothing to fear. It will dissipate as you get closer. It’s possible to move at full speed in territory that is known and clear. On new and uncertain paths, it’s important to manage your speed with your field of vision. Going too fast on a new road could end in a crash. The thing is that most people are not afraid of the ditch, pothole or even the wall. They’re afraid of the uncertainty that the fog brings.
The act of being human is not always an easy one. Despite all of our advantages, we still run into plenty of obstacles and potholes. There is an odd feeling that I have inside that I am more than one person. I’ve written before about my fascination with 
The Shawshank Redemption is one of my all time favorite movies. Based on how often it is shown on TV, I’m not the only one. SPOILER ALERT! If somehow you’ve not seen this movie that was released in 1994 and don’t want it ruined, STOP READING! (For those that are pressing on) The movie and the book that it is based on recount the multiple decades of Andy Dufresne’s life in Shawshank State Penitentiary as the wrongly convicted murderer of his wife and her lover. There are some differences between the movie and the book but mostly Andy is a methodically planning his escape through a tunnel in his cell wall. He finally achieves his goal after years of slow chiseling and eventually crawling through a shit-filled pipe. Shawshank was not meant to hold Andy Dufresne because he was free where it counted most, in his mind.
Huryk Unlimited 